I guess I've sort of roughly decided that I'd go to Heart of God Church, aka Peck's church. Or Phyllis la. :D I'd check it out soon hopefully. Anyway here's a poem by Sharon Olds, a poem from our mid-year paper for Literature.
Highschool Seniorby Sharon Olds
For seventeen years, her breath in the house
at night, puff, puff, like summer
cumulus above her bed, and her scalp smelling of apricots
--this being who had formed within me,
squatted like a bright tree-frog in the dark,
like an eohippus she had come out of history
slowly, through me, into the daylight,
I had the daily sight of her,
like food or air she was there, like a mother.
I say "college," but I feel as if I cannot tell
the difference between her leaving for college
and our parting forever--I try to see
this house without her, without her pure
depth of feeling, without her creek-brown
hair, her daedal hands with their tapered fingers,
her pupils dark as the mourning cloak'swing, but I can't. Seventeen year
sago, in this room, she moved inside me,
I looked at the river,
I could not imagine my life with her.
I gazed across the street,
and saw, in the icy winter sun,
a column of steam rush up away from the earth.
There are creatures whose children float away at birth,
and those who throat-feed their young
for weeks and never see them again.
My daughter is free and she is in me
--no, my love of her is in me, moving in my heart,
changing chambers, like something poured from hand to hand,
to be weighed and then reweighed.
